


Need

by draculard



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Bottom Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Pollen, Top Ezra Bridger, Underage Aggressor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:08:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28205853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: His skin is tingling, his eyes dilated, his breath coming fast. He feels his cock stiffening in his pants, the rub of fabric over his skin feeling better than it ever has before, the friction bad enough to make him moan; there’s no embarrassment, no shame. He palms himself through his trousers as he walks, strokes himself until he’s so hard it hurts, doesn’t care who sees.And that’s when the cloud of dust settles, and he sees Grand Admiral Thrawn standing before him, eyes narrowed, fingers covering his mouth as he coughs.
Relationships: Ezra Bridger/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo
Comments: 7
Kudos: 32





	Need

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on tumblr, I'm draculard there too

_Need_.

That’s all Ezra’s aware of: not where he is or who he’s with, just what he _needs_ , and how badly he needs it. Later, he’ll remember a blaster shot he aimed at Thrawn that went astray, and with so much of Hondo’s supply lying around, it's no surprise that the shot hits a crate, or that the impact sends the crate’s contents flying into the air.

He’ll remember some sort of colorless dust exploding all around him, trapping him and Thrawn in a cloud. He’ll remember the taste of it, unbelievably sweet against his tongue, and he’ll remember hearing Thrawn cough and raising his blaster again, thinking, _Now’s my chance, while he’s distracted—_

But after that, all thought ceases, and for now, all he knows is need. 

He drops his blaster without realizing it, suddenly forgets why it was so necessary in the first place. When he steps forward like a sleepwalker or a man entranced, his boot strikes the edge of the fallen blaster and sends it skittering away across the ground. 

His skin is tingling, his eyes dilated, his breath coming fast. He feels his cock stiffening in his pants, the rub of fabric over his skin feeling better than it ever has before, the friction bad enough to make him moan; there’s no embarrassment, no shame. He palms himself through his trousers as he walks, strokes himself until he’s so hard it hurts, doesn’t care who sees.

And that’s when the cloud of dust settles, and he sees Grand Admiral Thrawn standing before him, eyes narrowed, fingers covering his mouth as he coughs. He makes no move to protect himself; Ezra makes no move to attack.

But his eyes trail up and down Thrawn’s body almost against his will — from the thick black hair that would feel so soft and sensual against his palms to the sharpness of his cheekbones, the pulse point hammering visibly beneath his jaw. Beneath his uniform, Thrawn’s muscles are hard and tense, his form and figure visible, powerful, animalistic; his eyes glow, Ezra notices for the first time, and they glow _brightly_ , piercingly, glaring at Ezra while he approaches but making no effort to move away.

He glances down, sees the outline of Thrawn’s cock straining at the front of his trousers, and feels not the alarm he would normally expect, but a surge of excitement. His mouth waters; his face flushes; his limbs feel jittery and weak.

He wonders how Thrawn tastes, how warm his skin might feel against Ezra’s. He doesn’t notice the widened eyes, the slight shake of Thrawn’s head. 

(Later, he’ll find out the name of the colorless dust that both of them inhaled; he’ll learn that its effects can be resisted; he’ll learn, too, how every second of resistance eats at your brain, how your body stops functioning bit by bit, makes you weak, and he’ll feel a little better about what’s done.)

Through the Force, he feels Thrawn’s arousal and anticipation so strongly that it’s easy to ignore the revulsion he senses, too. He reaches for Thrawn, but he jerks away, his shoulders twitching so that his arm is just slightly out of Ezra’s reach. Ezra pauses, processes, mentally shrugs.

He uses the Force instead, and once Thrawn’s muscles are locked in place, he trembles, but he doesn’t fight back. His eyes burn into Ezra’s, his voice cold and hard as he speaks — explains, persuades, tries to convince — but his words are meaningless.

Ezra doesn’t want to hear him talk. He wants to hear him gasp, hear him moan. 

He _needs—_

Blue skin against his own, feverishly hot. The taste of sweat, the kiss of a racing pulse against his lips. Hands that move wherever he tells them to, legs that part with a little pressure from the Force. The heat and hardness of Thrawn’s cock against his own in the moment before Ezra pulls him to his knees.

Thrawn’s hair feels as good against his hands as he’d imagined it would. He runs his fingers through it, tangles his fingers in it, soft and silky and so light a touch that it makes his nerve endings sing. He scratches Thrawn’s scalp, earns a bitten-off gasp; then digs his nails in until he hears a moan, twists his fingers in Thrawn’s hair, jerks his head back to kiss his exposed neck, to run sharp teeth against the pulse point.

He needs—

Fabric sliding over naked skin, soft enough to caress, coarse enough to make him pay attention. The hard planes of Thrawn’s back beneath his palm, shoulders a taut line, head bowed. The weight of the Force around Thrawn’s neck, stroking the vulnerable skin there, tightening its grip until he gasps again, until his cock jumps. Ezra’s hand slides down his stomach, palming his cock, his thumb catching on the edge of the head before he goes farther, feels the hard cords of muscle trembling in Thrawn’s thighs. He rubs one finger over Thrawn’s hole and feels him gasp more than he hears it, feels him lean into Ezra’s touch for the first time.

When he enters him, Ezra ignores the flash of pain and resistance he feels through the Force, chalks it up to an anomaly of an unreadable alien mind. Can’t spare much energy to think about it, really, not when he’s buried inside Thrawn, enveloped on all sides by a tight heat like nothing he’s ever felt before. 

He thrusts awkwardly, clumsily, too excited to strive for any sort of grace. His lips find Thrawn’s shoulder, leaving wet open-mouthed kisses on his skin, pulling his head back only when Thrawn jerks his arm back in an attempt to throw him off. The Force soothes him, calms him, makes his limbs heavy and holds him still.

And when he reaches between Thrawn’s leg again and grabs his cock — not stroking, just squeezing — he likes to think that both of them cum, but looking back on it later, he’ll never be sure.

Regrettable, he tells himself when he comes to his senses and finds Thrawn already gone. Regrettable, and shameful, but he’d done all he could do. He hadn’t had a choice; he was as much a victim here as anybody else.

(It’s called luca powder, Hondo tells him later — an aphrodisiac so powerful that it actively hurts anyone who doesn’t indulge)

(An aphrodisiac that can be resisted; harmful effects that fade in time, that wear off at the same time the lust does)

(And Ezra tries desperately to remember exactly what Thrawn said to him before the Force glued his jaw shut and forced him to his knees)


End file.
